


Cold eyes

by MsUnOwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dark fic, F/M, Loss, Sadness, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29778372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsUnOwen/pseuds/MsUnOwen
Summary: Leaning closer to her he whispered. "Move. Move… please move…", repeating it over and over like a protection spell. But she didn't get up. She never would. Tom knew that.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Tom Riddle
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Cold eyes

**Author's Note:**

> JK Rowling is officially dead to me because of all that transfobic stuff she´s been saying. Harry Potter was written by a ghost.

Cold, unseeing silver eyes.

A pale hand just hanging unmoving beside her.

Tom wanted to yell at her, to shake her so she would move. How could someone with her intelligence have been such an idiot?! Why had she gone after the magical boar just to get some stupid hair from it? She had known it was dangerous. She had warned him about it! Yet gone after it herself, thinking she would be alright in the end, hurt but alright. 

You were wrong! He wanted to scream. You are not alright and you never will be!

Instead he put his hand to her cheek. She was still warm. It was easy to pretend that she would smile that dreamy smile which always managed to make his head spin. Then she would get up. She would move! But she just continued to lie still. No smile graced her lips. It was strange to see her so still, usually she always did something even when she was standing.

Tom couldn't believe this was actually happening. He wasn't unused to de- people with her ailment. However the gut sucking feeling and the hole in his chest where she should be was new to him. He felt hollow inside out. It was like someone had taken a vital organ from him, the most important one. 

He remembered his uncle's lifeless form. He had laughed then, glee filling him. He recalled Myrtle Warren's frightened expression, before it fell away. She never made another. He thought back to the green light which had illuminated his fathers, grandfathers and grandmothers faces before their hearts stopped. At every occasion he had felt glad, elated even. Now he could only feel the hollowness ripping him apart. This was not how he should feel... and yet he did. 

Tom couldn't bear it. 

Leaning closer to her he whispered. "Move. Move… please move…", repeating it over and over like a protection spell. But she didn't get up. She never would. Tom knew that.

He stared at the red bloodstain which was coating her whimsical blouse, hiding the pattern of dancing cucumbers behind it. There was so much red. Tom was starting to hate that colour.

As he sat there beside the woman who would never move again, he realised that Tom Riddle could never live without Luna Lovegood.


End file.
